Overview: A villain called "The Chooper" (that's not a typo, or at least not our typo) terrorizes a decrepit dust farm in the ass end of nowhere. Meanwhile, some lady narrates about pretty ponies and artesian well water over the Best of Unremarkable Rodeo Bloopers Volume XVII for over half the movie.
Directed By: Ray Dennis Steckler, 1971
The Case For: Clocks in at a lean 55 minutes, which gives you a bonus half-hour to do something more productive with your life, like starting a toenail collection or finally writing that Judge Dredd/Judge Judy crossover fanfiction novel.
The Case Against: This movie is about as engaging and deeply layered as a mediocre Benny Hill sketch. Also, it was filmed for $500, most of which was probably (hopefully) spent on pony food.
Trillaphon: No, no, wait a goddamn minute here. I'm pre-emptively objecting to us reviewing Blood Shack. I'm doing this under protest.
Hydrogen: What, really? How can you object to reviewing a film by the legendary Ray Dennis Steckler, a man who directed and starred in one of the most infamous movies ever to grace the big screen on the Satellite of Love?
Trillaphon: I'm not questioning that, but this is a movie review column, and Blood Shack isn't a movie. It's a collection of somebody's random home videos from bumfuck West Virginia, where the closest you get to civilization/entertainment is cow tipping and ninja-based murder.
Hydrogen: I would have killed for some cow tipping in this movie. Cow tipping would be a profound metaphysical commentary on the totality of human existence, compared to what's in Blood Shack.
Hydrogen: On the positive side, this movie is full of twists and turns. Well, okay, there's one horrifying twist, it starts when you read the word "Chooper" on the IMDB page, and then you actually start the movie and realize that it's not a typo, everyone is actually saying "Chooper".
Trillaphon: There are only two possible explanations: either "chooping" is some kind of backwoods slang for a meth-fueled screaming and stabbing frenzy, or every single member of the cast and crew is so cripplingly illiterate that they don't know that's not how you spell "chopper".
Hydrogen: Well, it could be short for Choopercobber, sucker of Goots.
Trillaphon: I hate you.
Your lair. Maybe you lure victims to it, maybe you hide in it between killings, or maybe you haunt it 24/7 because you’re tragically confined by a curse. Whatever the situation, for most of us monsters, a living/un-living space is an important part of our identities. In this column, Monstergeddon award winners share their lair tips and techniques!
Works great on my child, who hasn't barked at all for as long as she's worn the apparatus. When she turns three, we will remove it for a trial period.
The famed gonzo otaku journalist writes about the death of gaming culture in 2014.
Try not to break your console while I try not to break my cyber brain.
Something Awful reviews the absolute worst movies out there. We focus mostly on horror and science fiction, because all writers here on Something Awful are huge nerds.